


The Running Order

by AdaptationDecay



Category: Drop the Dead Donkey
Genre: Comedy, Financial Issues, Gen, Humor, TV News, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdaptationDecay/pseuds/AdaptationDecay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And now... Drop The Dead Donkey. This fanfiction was first broadcast in December 2008 when Jonathon Ross had been suspended from the BBC for leaving abusive messages on Andrew Sachs' answering machine, the collapse of the Icelandic banking industry was pushing the UK further into a recession and retail chain Woolworths was about to cease trading after sixty years on Britain's high streets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Running Order

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Chaosmanor in the 2008 Yuletide Challenge
> 
> With thanks to Snow from #yuletide, without whom this would not have been finished in time.

"Right. The running order. We'd better lead with Woolworths," says Helen, shaking her head sadly. "I suppose we'll be seeing plenty more high profile chains close before this is over, but still. Woolworths! It's a national institution."

"Yeah," agrees Dave. "I mean, where are kids going to learn how to shoplift?"

"Or more importantly," she continues, giving him a look, "where are the twenty seven thousand ex-employees going to work?"

"Poundland?"

"Sod the employees, let's update the chart," Henry bellows from the far side of the office. "Joy!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Keep your hair on."

Joy couples this last remark with a thoroughly insolent glance at Henry's toupee and takes a list down from the noticeboard where it has been cunningly hidden behind a picture of Peter Lilley and a flurry of memos from Gus involving words like 'activationating'.

Helen's eyes narrow.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Dave and George say 'no' at the exact same time Joy says 'yes'.

"It's another bloody deadpool isn't it? What did I say after the last time?" Helen marches back to the noticeboard and snatches down one of the few memos written in recognisable English.

"'Given last Wednesday's embarrassing incident,'" she reads aloud. "'Any form of betting on which celebrities will die over the coming year is completely forbidden. Staff members of Globelink News found participating in any such wager will be subject to disciplinary action.' I think the memo's perfectly clear, so perhaps one of you could tell me why it's being completely ignored. Henry? Given that this was all your fault in the first place."

"Oh pish tosh. That could have happened to anybody."

"Not if they'd had the tiniest scrap of professionalism it couldn't. You were supposed to be telling the viewers that Magnus Magnusson had died of pancreatic cancer, not leaping into the air and shouting 'Get in my son'. Do you have any idea how much grief we got from OfCom?"

"Lot of fuss about nothing," Henry bloviates. "Anybody would think I'd rung up his answering machine to tell him I'd shagged his granddaughter."

"You couldn't even shag his daughter," Dave reminds him. "You bet me twenty quid you could get Sally Magnusson into bed by the end of the Tory party conference and we all know how that ended."

"My point," says Helen dividing her glare between Dave and Henry, "is that you responded to the death of a much-loved celebrity with completely inappropriate glee and we ended up with a hefty fine for it."

"If we'd known how badly Iceland was going to screw us six months later, we'd have got a bloody press award instead," Henry tells her.

"I don't care if Jón Asgeir Jóhannesson came around in person and set fire to your house. There will be no more betting on dead celebrities in this newsroom. Do I make myself clear?"

"We're not," says Dave proferring the list for her inspection. "See? No celebrities."

The neatly typed list consists of various high street retailers and banks. Several shops and most of the banks have been crossed out.

"Of course once you look at the list, a pattern emerges." Joy says, meaningfully. "To do with their advertising."

"D'you know, she's right," says Henry, running a finger down the list. "It's the single common feature of all the companies who've tanked. We could make a killing on the stock exchange now we've isolated The Smedley Factor."

"Well it's curtains for the British economy, then," Dave points out. "I mean the number of ad campaigns Sally's fronted in the six months is probably longer than my mobile number."

"Once again, you manage to obey the letter of a rule while completely ignoring the spirit. I don't know why I'm surprised any more. However, if this is what it takes to make you pay attention..."

She returns the sheet to the noticeboard and gives them a moment to realise that she has added the word Globelink to the bottom of the list in large capital letters.

"Given we're up against 'The Smedley Factor', I'd say we need to pull our finger out, don't you think? So, the running order. We lead with Woolworths..."


End file.
